2007-11-08: Staying Put


Tyson_icon.gif Trina_icon.gif

Summary: Staying where one says they will is often difficult…

Date It Happened: November 8th, 2007

Staying Put

Midtown, NYC - Midtown East

Tyson has made it his goal to stay in one place for a long time and hand fliers to interested people as they passed. He had gotten much success from walking the streets, but his feet were hurting and this seemed a lot easier. The only thing was deciding where to post himself, deciding eventually to just pick a spot and do so. That being the case, Tyson is here, listening to music in his ears while hanging fliers advertising the Brawler's Headquarters, waiting for someone to stand out as a ready combatant.

With a slow, smooth stride, Trina makes her arrival at the local liquor store. Should she be here? Absolutely not. Is she anyway? Absolutely. The rail-thin young woman pulls her coat tightly about her, and ducks her head low against the cold breeze that cuts down the street. When she sees the young man outside her poison depot, she arches an eyebrow. And what, pray tell, is this? "Evenin'," she offers, friendly enough considering the hour.

To say the least, with his headphones in, Tyson does not hear the call. Fortunately, he turns around, finding himself surprisingly closer to the woman than he was even prepared for. He reacts as such by bounding back a step almost ready to throw a punch, but catching himself when he realized she wasn't hostile. Removing his headphones, Tyson looked at her curiously, wondering what she had said in the first place, "What? Did you want a flier?"

When Tyson moves to prep a punch, the brunette quickly pulls back and pulls her head head back and prepares to dodge. As soon as he drops his defensive position, however, her posture goes back to something a little more relaxed. Trina wraps her arms a little more tightly over her stomach, head tilting a little as she stops and then looks closer. There's a sharp sniff, and then she bites her lower lip. "What are they for?"

"They won't get you anything, but they'll sure remind you that there's a fight club in the Bronx." Tyson nodded, going on to with more enthusiasm. "The main thing is that once you're there you can fight, bet, or do other non-fight related things like dancing and eating. There's the drink for… well…" He looked around noting his location and, not wanting to insult the lady decided against saying anything harsh. "… people that like to drink…"

Trina holds out her hand to take one, a single shoulder sort of half-shrugging modestly. Blue eyes narrowing a little as she does so. "A fight club, huh?" The woman's lips scrunch and shift as she considers. "What sort of entry rules?"

"Entry rules?" Tyson repeats, "Well, you've got sign up and get a brawler's license so you don't get arrested for fighting like this…." He shrugs, "It's the only way to keep you from getting sued or arrested, everything is legit like that. Beyond that though… any thing goes inside the ring." He was smirking, but paused all of a sudden and examines the woman closely. "Wait, are you interested in fighting?"

"Ain't got a brawler's license, first of all," Trina replies with a self-conscious smile and tuck of her head. "Second of all, I ain't in any shape for it anymore." A hand lifts so that she can fluff her dark hair, only to rub a little at her nose. "My boyfriend is the one I was thinkin' might be interested."

Tyson shakes his head, "I didn't think you were the fighting type to begin with, but that's cool. I'm sure your boyfriend will probably be accepted there, as long as you're certain he isn't actually a punk…" He shrugs, "Still though, a license is gotten as soon as you want to fight. They're great that way. Any money you make is going to help pay for keeping you- your boyfriend out of jail while he does what he does and gets paid for it…"

Trina arches an eyebrow at that, and then her lips curl downward into a frown. "Y'ain't know nothing 'bout me," she snaps bitterly, quickly jutting out a finger at Tyson. She could take care of herself just fine a few months ago, and now she takes particular umbrage with an unspoken accusation that may or not be there. "And my boyfriend ain't a punk." Lifting her hand, she gives the international line for STOP. "You know what? Nevermind."

Tyson stared blankly at the girl as she suddenly got an attitude with him. He had been jokingly polite, or so he thought, but having heard her and watched her stick her hand out at him, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Listen…." He sighed. "I don't know where you jumped the track into not following me, but I just thought that some girls think they're boyfriends are the toughest guys so when they show up… well… it dun end well…" He however didn't think the girl was going to listen to him anymore and he started putting his headphones in as he turned and waved flippantly as he strode off in another direction, suddenly put off from staying where he had previously chosen. "Try being a little less crazy, little miss attitude, maybe then you'll be mellow enough to join the club." Continuing to speak up, he cocked his head to the side to look at the girl out the corner of his eye, "Bring your boyfriend…" Tyson was still in ear shot when he said that, in fact, he was still pretty close in general. The girl could probably do or say something and be heard completely.

"Maybe I will," Trina replies, prominently displaying her middle finger as she turns on her heel and goes into the store. This kid's younger than her, she knows that much, and he just called her crazy. She is not drunk enough for today. It's time to fix that.

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